


Not Like This for Long

by Chelle1117



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-10
Updated: 2011-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:36:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chelle1117/pseuds/Chelle1117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the revelation scene of ep 4.10, Jensen's caught up in the emotion, and Jared figures some stuff out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Like This for Long

"Okay. Cut," came the whispered order from the director. Jared looked over to see why the usually barked order was so subdued and was stunned to see everyone wiping their eyes. No one on the sides would look at them, everyone either had their heads down or their hands over their eyes. Jared would swear he even heard a few sniffles.

Silently, he glanced up at Jensen, still leaning back against the car, head turned to stare off into the distance, as though he hadn't heard the direction to cut. Jared frowned.

"Jen?" he said, voice low. "Hey, buddy. You okay?"

Jensen's shoulders raised on a deep intake of breath, and he lowered his head to stare at the ground. "Nah, Jay. I mean, yeah, I'm fine. Just...give me a minute."

Jared watched the shudder ripple slowly down his friend's tired body. He placed his hand in the middle of Jensen's back, fingers curled to offer a scratch of solace. Then he looked again over to the side and was surprised to see that most of the crew had left them alone. The only ones left were Phil and Cliff. Phil lifted brow and nodded at Jensen, question clear in concerned eyes. Cliff glared for a moment, then with a short nod, left to pull the truck around to take them home.

Jared had to smile a little at them—Cliff especially. It was their subtle way of asking if Jen was okay, if either he or Jared needed anything. Jared waved his other hand, letting them know he had the situation under control. Reassured, Phil followed Cliff back to the front of the location.

Jared slid closer to Jensen on the hood of the Impala, settling his long body against Jensen's back. "Hey."

Jensen leaned into him, barely, just enough that Jared felt the extra pressure against his side. "I'm okay, Jay."

"Right." Jared had his doubts. He'd seen Jensen get like this a couple of times after playing to Dean's emotions.

The first was when Sam had died in Dean's arms. Jensen had walked away from set crying and struggling to shed Dean. Jared had let him have a moment, but eventually followed him. He hadn't said anything, and neither did Jensen, but that was the first time he'd given Jensen a real hug—one of comfort and friendship, not one to be publicly consumed by the media and the fans.

Since then, Jared's had plenty of opportunity to hug Jensen, and even though Jen had stayed tense under Jared's arms, he'd eventually loosened up enough to just fold his head down onto Jared's shoulder and take the comfort when it was offered. He still didn't hug back, but Jared could take one concession at a time, and to know that he could give Jensen any kind of solace on a rough day was gratifying.

He didn't think about the other implications of Jensen's capitulation. Jared absolutely refused to think about how good it felt to have Jensen trust him that much, how warm he got when Jensen relaxed into his body after a hard day. There really wasn't anything to think about.

But here was another moment for the two of them, and Jared found himself wanting to wrap Jensen up, hold that solid frame within the admittedly large circle of his arms, knowing that after a day like this one, Jensen wouldn't object. So Jared did. He turned himself so he could hug Jensen from behind, settling his head between Jen's shoulders and his hands on Jen's arms.

He sucked in a slow breath, then whispered, "You knocked this one outta the park, you know."

Jensen leaned further into the almost hug, then covered Jarend's hand with his own. "I hate doing these fuckin' scenes, Jay."

Jared stared at the fingers that covered his on Jensen's shoulder. He wanted to turn his hand over and fist those fingers in his hand and never let go of them again. Instead he pulled his hand free, making that fist to savor the warmth in his fingers. He sighed. "Yeah," he said. Then, "Turn around, man."

He felt Jensen shake his head. "Nah. I'm all fucked up," Jensen whispered, lifting a hand to scrub at his face.

"So?" Jared said and physically turned Jensen around. "Since when do you give a shit about bein' fucked up around me?" He asked, before he caught sight of Jen's face. "Oh," he whispered, finally catching a glimpse of Jensen's tear streaked skin and red rimmed eyes. He let his eyes rove over Jensen's features. "Jesus, Jen."

Jensen choked out a laugh. "Yeah. See, dude. Told you. All fucked up."

Jared cupped Jensen's face in his big hands and swept his thumb through the tears still rolling over chapped cheeks. "What in hell d'you do, Jen? Just let it all free fall over you? You're a mess."

Jensen glared at him, green eyes shining wet beneath spiked lashes. "Your point, Jay?"

Jared sighed and let his hands drift down to Jensen's shoulders. "Don't look at me like that, man. Just. Goddammit, Jen. You're so fuckin' good at this shit. You know it, and I know it, but I just wish sometimes, you'd...I don't know... _not_ put so much of yourself into it."

Jensen swallowed audibly, and Jared looked up at him. "What?"

Taking a deep breath, Jensen exhaled wouldn't meet Jared's eyes. "No one else ever noticed—or cared to notice—that's what I do. I..." He trailed off, took another breath, then said, "Damn, Jay, you're a first for everything, you son of a bitch."

"Well," Jared said, unsure and unwilling to reveal feelings he really wasn't ready to articulate to himself much less their object. "I notice 'cause...I guess 'cause I care. You're my best friend, man. How could I not notice?"

Jensen looked up at him again, his mouth twisted wryly. "Lots of friends haven't noticed, Jay. I guess I just got used to it."

"Well, this is me. I ain't 'lots of friends.' I'm...Dude. I'm Jared."

That drew a chuckle from Jensen, and Jared gave a quick tight smile in return. Then Jensen said quietly, "Yeah. It's one of the things I love about you," and Jared's eyes went wide and the smile fell away from his face.

"What?"

Jensen gulped, took a deep breath then looked up, acting confused. "What, what?"

"You just said you loved me."

"No, I didn't."

"Um, yeah, ya did."

Jensen floundered for a moment, frowning. "That was...was..." His face settled into determination. "That was Dean. You know, character bleed. Like you've never seen it before. You gotta know that Dean loves his brother."

"And would _never_ say it to Sam's face unless Sam were about to die," Jared said. "You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

Jared watched Jensen's face closely, taking in the freckles that had been revealed when tears washed away the make-up and the flush that was creeping up Jensen's neck to blossom under those freckles. Jensen's wide eyes were wary, guarded, revealing nothing. But his mouth...his mouth was tight, lips pressed into each other so hard their edges were white with tension. Jared squinted at him, and for the first time, let the thought slide through his mind that he didn't like Jensen's lips all tight, nor his eyes guarded.

"Yeah, Jen, you're lying," he said. "And I know how to prove it." He stood, meaning to step around the front of the car to stand in front of Jensen, but just then, Cliff came around with the truck to take them home.

Phil, apparently, called a wrap on filming since it was so late in the day, and Jensen was done. Coverage shots, and close-ups would wait until the next day. Cliff slid the driver's side window down and glanced over at them. He didn't have to say much, his heavy brow and dark eyes expressing the questions clearly. Jared waved at him. "We're ready, Cliff, just a sec," he said, and tugged Jensen's sleeve. "You wanna change outta this or just go?"

Jensen hauled in a breath and blinked hard, then he shrugged. "Just...let's go home, Jay," he said, quiet. Then he stood up and arched his back in a long stretch, and finally, Jared could see Dean dropping away. Jensen stood a little straighter; his face seemed a little lighter, eyes brighter. As Jensen walked to his side of the truck, he glanced back at Jared, and Dean was completely gone. It was only Jensen shining out of those green eyes, still wet and red-rimmed. "You coming?"

Jared sniffed, letting a small smile curve over his face. "Yeah," he said and nodded to Cliff. "Home, Jeeves," he ordered, chuckling.

Cliff rolled his eyes and let his window slide back up, shifting the truck into drive as Jared and Jensen settled into the back seat.

The thing Jared liked most about Cliff was his silence and uncanny ability to know exactly what the boys needed on their ride back home. After a hard day of filming with the brothers at each others' throats, Jared and Jensen sitting as far apart as possible and staring out opposite windows, Cliff would turn on the classic rock tunes.

First, Jensen would start tapping one foot, maybe keeping time with his fingers on his thigh. Jared would find himself bobbing his head, nodding along with the beat, maybe lip synching a few words every now and again. Then, for some inexplicable reason, both he and Jen would start singing at the exact same moment in the song, and they couldn't help but laugh at each other.

The on-set tension would break, and they'd slide a little closer together on the seat and keep singing—Jensen's voice solid and pitch perfect in harmony on the song, and Jared's loud and clear and so off it wasn't funny. Jensen never laughed or told him to shut up, just sang right along, occasionally landing a soft punch on Jared's arm when he was particularly bad.

Other times, when their mood was more somber or sad than angry, Cliff would rock the soft tunes, instrumental soundtracks. Often, both Jensen and Jared would sit quietly for a while, then, once the character bleed was over, they'd both smile and holler at Cliff to "turn off the girly shit, man" and then the good stuff would come on.

Neither of them would ever admit whose iPod Cliff was using, each preferring to keep their more emo sides well hidden. However, Jared knew that most times it was his own music collection that Cliff used to help them shed the skin of both Sam and Dean.

This day was no exception. Cliff had settled on some quiet tunes, mostly piano, and Jared was thankful. He let the smooth melodies wash over him and leaned his forehead against the window, staring at the lines on the road as Cliff drove them home. He initially sat down with his hands resting on his thighs, fingers turned in. He'd thought it best to keep as far away from Jensen as possible, give his friend some room to shed both the tough feelings of the shoot, and what Jared saw as fear at the revelation of his feelings. But sitting still and away from Jensen never worked for very long, so he let his right hand slide off his thigh to rest in the middle of the seat.

After about ten miles of silence, but for the soft melodies of the piano coming from the speakers, Jared felt the subtle heat of Jensen's hand settling on the seat next to his. He glanced down out of the corner of his eye, measuring the distance between their two pinky fingers. It wasn't much. Looking over at Jensen, who was still staring out the window, brow furrowed in thought, Jared stretched his pinky out, letting it rest against Jensen's. He heard a soft intake of breath and waited for Jensen to move his hand.

Jensen didn't so much as twitch a finger in protest, but his eyes closed as he took in a deeper, slower breath. Jared took the lack of protest as an encouragement. He turned his head to watch for any reaction and slowly slid his fingers over Jensen's, eventually ending with Jensen's fingers wrapped in his, literally holding his hand. Jared held his breath.

Jensen leaned his head back on the headrest of the seat, eyes closed, but his hand turned over in Jared's. Instead of pulling away, he laced their fingers together and slowly turned his head on the seat to stare at Jared. The heat in his eyes took Jared's breath away.

The last ten miles of the trip went by slowly. Jensen never took his hand out of Jared's. They continued to stare at each other, Jensen's green eyes roving over Jared's features like they had done it a thousand times, settling, every once in a while, on one particular feature—the curve of his dimple, the lobe of his ear, the jut of his jaw beneath his ear, his nose, and finally, his mouth.

The familiarity of the glances and the soft heat in Jensen's eyes threw Jared, and he wanted desperately to ask "How long?" but knew any words whispered in the confines of the truck would shred the moment, and he'd never get another opportunity. So he kept quiet, and let his eyes make the same trek over Jensen's features.

He'd never done it before with such intensity, so he'd never noticed the cluster of freckles at the base of Jensen's jaw or the ones across his nose. He'd never really noticed the crow's feet at Jensen's eyes, the length of his eyelashes, the flecks of brown or the ring of blue in his eyes. He'd looked at Jensen so much over the past three years, but never took in the fact that one of his eyes was more narrow than the other, that his mouth was just...perfect.

Finally, Jared blinked and met Jensen's gaze across the short distance of the bench seat. He could feel a new heat pooling in his gut, tightening his thighs, and snatching his breath. He felt his face go hot, but he refused to look away.

The truck slowed to a stop, and they barely registered the snick of the locks disengaging. Jensen pulled his hand out of Jared's grasp, and opened his door. Jared fumbled for the handle of his own door, a step or two behind Jensen, who'd already said goodbye to Cliff and stood outside the truck, ready to shut his door. It closed with a quick thud, and Jared, too, whispered a quick goodbye to Cliff, who merely waved them both off before shifting the truck into reverse and leaving Jared and Jensen facing each other in the driveway.

Still silent, but just as intense as in the truck, Jensen dug in his pocket for his keys. Jared took two cautious steps forward, toward Jensen, but at the quick upturn of those green eyes, he stopped, frowning. Jensen turned away, walking up to the house, keys in hand. Jared followed him; when the key slid home into the lock, Jared was right behind Jensen, so close to him he could smell the tang of sweat and dusty hint of make-up on Jensen's skin.

Jensen turned the key, the click of the tumblers sliding into place made Jared's breath rush out. One more minute, thirty seconds, five, two. It didn't matter. The door opened, and for once, the dogs didn't come running. Jensen stepped into the house, Jared less than a step behind him, aching—for what he didn't quite know, but he had to get...his hands...The door shut, a soft snick behind him, and Jared reached forward, laying his hand on Jensen's back.

Finally.

Jensen turned around.

"Jen?"

"Shut up, Jay," Jared heard, and barely registered before Jensen had him braced against the closed door, hands fisted in his jacket, and his mouth on Jared's skin. That hot, perfect, new mouth, pink and wet against Jared's neck. "Oh, god," Jared whispered, swallowing thickly and sliding his hands into Jensen's short hair. "I had no idea," he said, and pulled Jensen up away from his throat to kiss him.

He meant to go slow, he really did. But Jensen was having none of it, opening his mouth wide and sliding his tongue over Jared's lips, seeking entrance. And in the long established pattern of their friendship—what Jensen wants, Jensen gets—Jared opened his mouth on a low moan, and pushed into the kiss.

They stayed that way, against the door, kissing each other, hands roaming over cool skin and clothes. Then Jensen reached under Jared's shirt, nails scraping into the sensitive skin of his back, and Jared hissed. "Shit, Jen, don't."

Jensen smiled into his mouth, whispered, "You know you like this," and flexed his fingers again, pushing into Jared's skin.

"Ah, God," Jared said again, and threw his head back, his skull smacking against the solid oak door hard. The brief pain pulled him back for a moment, long enough to rein himself in. He looked down at Jensen, who grinned up at him. "What?" he asked.  
Jensen shook his head. "Nothing. You just," he chuckled. "How's your head?"

Jared cuffed him on the side of his head. "Shut up," he said. "Kiss me again," he said and lowered head to slide his lips over Jensen's. "Touch me again."

"Yeah, okay, yeah, Jay."

And they were kissing again, Jensen's hands cool on Jared's back, nails raising tingling lines of sensation. Jared settled his hands at Jensen's waist and stared pushing him back, following him into the living room. They bumped into the sofa back, and Jared bent Jensen backwards over it, mouth sliding from perfect pink lips to the warm skin on Jensen's jaw. He bit him, teeth closing on the sharp bones just below Jensen's ear. He grinned when Jensen moaned, high pitched and frantic.

With Jensen bent over the sofa, Jared slid his hand down into Jensen's jeans, knuckles scraping the delicate skin of Jensen's hips until he could just make out with his fingertips the damp head of Jensen's dick. Jensen shuddered, shivering hard in Jared's arms. "Jesus, fuck, Jay. You son of a bitch."

"Like that?" Jared whispered into his ear, fingers circling over very sensitive skin.

"Fuck you, man." Jensen growled, turning away from Jared's mouth.

"In a little bit," Jared said, pulling Jensen up and walking, again toward his bedroom. "Unless you want bruises and rug burn?"

Jensen stopped walking and stared up at Jared, gaze hard, and uttered what Jared knew was the cold hard truth. "I want you, Jay, don't care when, don't care how. Just...you."

They didn't make it to the bedroom. Jared shoved Jensen up against the wall, fingers working Jensen's belt and jeans open and shoving them down around thick thighs. He dropped to his knees, kissing Jensen's belly, liking the tickle of rough hairs against his nose.

"Holy shit, Jared, what the fuck?"  
"Shut up," Jared said, lips moving against Jensen's skin. "Just shut up and let me..." Jared's words trailed off, silenced by his fascination with Jensen's hard cock.

He'd never done it before, always having been with women, but Jared knew what he liked as a man, and he and Jensen shared so much else in common, he could only hope this would be the same. He slid his fingers up through the crisp hairs on Jensen's thighs, listening at the tell-tale intake of breath. He smiled, hearing his name on that breath.

He leaned forward and kissed the inside of Jensen's thigh, delighting in the quiver of muscle beneath his lips. As he continued kissing and licking up Jensen's thigh—something he himself enjoyed, given the opportunity—he reached back to take Jensen's hands in his, lacing their fingers together.

"Jay, please," Jensen whispered above him, voice rough and tortured. "Please."

Jared brought their laced fingers to the sides of his head and let go, hoping Jensen would take the hint. He did, curling his fingers into Jared's thick hair.

Jared nipped lightly at the soft skin of Jensen's inner thigh, then wrapped one hand around Jensen's shaft, letting his thumb circle the head. Jensen tightened his fists in Jared's hair, whispering again, "Jay, please." And Jared couldn't deny him; he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the head of Jensen's cock, licking a little, swirling his wet tongue around and around before pushing down and taking Jensen's entire length into his mouth.

Jensen's knees buckled around his shoulders and Jared wrapped his arm around Jensen's hips, holding him steady. It was new for Jared, being the one to give instead of receive, but he quickly discovered that he quite liked it. Jensen's every reaction was played out in the flex and stretch of his thighs, in the tightening of his fists in Jared's hair, in the inhale and exhale of breath and words and pleas.

When Jared took him deep, felt him a the back of his throat, Jensen would keen, long drawn out sounds that had Jared aching for his own release.

When Jared pulled back, and just focused on the head, sucking lightly between kisses and licks, Jensen would growl and thrust forward, trying to speed things up, looking for friction anyway he could get it. Then he'd curse Jared for being a cock tease, and Jared would smile right before taking him fully into his mouth again.

When Jared reached up and fondled Jensen's balls, squeezing them lightly in his fist, Jensen spread his legs wider and shoved his hips forward. "Jay," he said, groaning, "gonna come," and Jared shuddered, wanting exactly that. He wanted Jensen to come, cock in his mouth, shooting deep into Jared's throat.

It never been something he even remotely thought of before, but the idea of Jensen losing control, shuddering out his release into Jared just seemed right. So Jared opened his mouth wide, and took him deep, sucking hard. He crooked a finger behind Jensen's balls, pushing into the soft flesh there, and nearly crowed with delight when Jensen came hard, pulsing in his mouth. Jared winced and swallowed quickly. It was salty, not entirely unpleasant, and Jared felt like he could get used to it, so long as it was just Jensen he would be doing this with.

When Jensen finished, and rested limp and soft in Jared's mouth, Jared pulled back slowly, careful not to cause too much sensation, knowing how sensitive everything is right after coming so hard. He looked up at Jensen's flushed face. "You okay?"

Jensen opened his eyes, took some time to get refocused and said, "Yeah, god. Yeah, Jay. I'm good." He pulled Jared up and kissed him, mouth hot and firm. "Want you to fuck me," he said, lips barely moving. "Want you inside." He stepped out of his clothes, closer to Jared, brushing against his body.

Jared had to catch his breath. He leaned his forehead against Jensen's. "Jen, what. I've never,"

"I know, you'll do all right," Jensen interrupted him. Then Jensen said something that just floored Jared. "I trust you."  
Jared swallowed painfully, his throat tight. He took several breaths, each one deeper and slower than the other, trying to slow his heart beating painfully in his chest. Jensen leaned in and kissed him again. "I've wanted it so long, Jared, you have no idea. Want you over me, hot, sweaty, every stinkin' inch of you over me, on me, in me. I've thought about it, how it would be," he said, forehead to forehead. Jared listened, taking in the words, letting them heat him back up.

"Hard day at work, long shoot. You dirty and sweaty, maybe a little bit bloody." He kissed Jared's lips. "Both of us so tired and worn out, we forget who we are and what we're supposed to be." His lips moved to Jared's jaw. "You touch me, a hand on my back, a shoulder bump, doesn't matter. I get so hot, Jay, thinking about how you touch me. And you touch me all the time." He whispered into Jared's ear. "Did you know that? Did you know what you were doing when you touched me?"

Jared swallowed. "No," he whispers, aching. "No idea."

Jensen smiled. "That's how it started, Jay. Little touches. Then the bear hugs on the red carpet, you rescuing me from those damn vultures. I hated you for a split second, you know."

"What? Why?"

Jensen shrugged. "I'm not a girl, Jay. Don't need rescuing."

Jared shivered. "That's not why-"

Jensen kissed him again. "Shut up. I know that." He smiled, and started down the hall. "But I hated you just a little, and wanted you so much." He stopped walking.

Jared looked up away from Jensen and noticed they were at his bedroom. "Jensen."

"Want you, Jay. For a long time." He opened the door and stepped through it. "Come to bed."

Jared followed Jensen into the room, watched him shrug out of the shirt and jacket he still had on. He didn't move when Jensen walked over to him, reaching behind him to shut the door. Didn't move when Jensen started backwards again toward the bed, just followed every movement and step with his eyes. When Jensen sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded between his knees, head down, waiting, Jared took the first step toward him.

He swallowed and tugged his shirt over his head. Jensen watched it float to the floor.

Jared took another step and worked the button on his jeans loose. Jensen stared, the flush on his cheeks flaring further and spreading down over his neck and shoulders. Another step and Jared's jeans were down, another and he was naked, and there was no going back. He hesitated at the last step, the one that would put him next to the bed, between Jensen's legs.

He reached out a hand and ran it through Jensen's hair, watching as Jensen closed his eyes. "You're sure?" he asked.

The only answer he received was Jensen opening his eyes again and looking up at him.

"All right, then," he whispered, and, pulling Jensen's head back, he kissed him.

  


  
  
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